


Feels Like Love

by daisydactyl



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: F/M, Female pronouns for Grell
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-03-30
Packaged: 2018-03-20 08:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3643719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daisydactyl/pseuds/daisydactyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick one shot of a sexual encounter between Grell and unnamed gentleman. More a bit of focus on her thoughts and feeling during the encounter.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels Like Love

Here she was again. Another night, a different man. It was just routine for her, a scratch for the itch she felt. This what worked for her though, what soothed both her monster and her aches, at least most of the time. 

Back pressed against the wall of an unfamiliar room she closed her eyes, losing herself in the feeling of a stranger’s lips against her skin. It was always this way or the other; the feeling of a man or the smear of blood. Right now the former was the one she needed. 

Clothes were falling away, piling up on the floor. She pushed the shame away from her mind; the shame of her body, of what she wasn’t, of what she lacked. She wouldn’t think on that now, not unless he tried to push something that she wouldn’t have, then she would steer him away or simply have to deal with it. Those times were the worst. 

She could deal with them touching that part of her sometimes, at least when she wasn’t thinking of it too much. As long as she didn’t have to see it then she could find a way to deal with it. But when they tried to use their mouth on her she would push them away, that one thing she really didn’t want and would always try to avoid. She could do anything to them, she had no problem with that—at least she knew she could do that as well as—if not better than—any _real_ woman. 

This one knew what he was getting in, at least he thought he did; she was used to that though. They believed she was a man, and she didn’t bother to correct them, she didn’t want them for more than this night anyway. If she had wanted to keep them around for a time she would tell them once and if they didn’t accept it then she could easily leave them behind her—most of the time.

Then there were the ones who felt that she’d cheated them; the ones who picked her up when she all dressed up in her finest dresses. Those ones usually ended being very angry or very embarrassed when they got her out of her clothes. The embarrassed one’s were easy, she would just shoo them away and find herself wallowing for the rest of the night in shame and sadness; but the angry ones were something else entirely. 

When it came the men who were angered by her true body one of two things always happened: they took their anger out on her or they tried to and she left them worse for the wear. When she let them take out their anger on her it brought about a sense of justification, almost a punishment for herself. She bathed her body in pain, felt the warmth of her own blood on her skin, and when they were done she was gone. The wounds punished her body for not matching her mind and soothed the monster inside that constantly clawed at her skin. 

But that could easily be soothed with their blood instead of her own as well. When she was angry in those situations she didn’t give them a chance to react to the truth about her, she would damage them until she could feel her heart racing and their blood matting her hair. When her anger felt like spilling over and they served to remind her of what she wasn’t, then why shouldn’t she take out her pain and frustration on their flesh? 

He didn’t seem to care about that part of her though; good for him. 

His lips were everywhere, his hand trailing across her skin, leaving a trail of warmth in his wake; that was when she turned away. She preferred to turn herself away from them to keep that part of her out of their sight and of hers. He seemed to accept it, pressing up against her and rubbing their bodies together. It brought an almost purr from her lips. She liked it like this, where she knew she was the one who controlled what they did even if he believed it was the other way around; she didn’t give her control to just anyone after all. 

Her breath was hushed, face warm, and skin tingling as he roamed the parts of her body she gave him access to. Yes this was what she needed, to give in to the desires of her body and to feel the warmth that could only come from knowing that she had satisfied someone. She liked that knowledge, it was something that she could do that made her feel like a _real_  woman and in the end she could pretend that warm feeling was love; why shouldn’t she strive to have that feeling as often as she could?

That’s what she did. If a man she found to be attractive could be attracted to her in return then didn’t that mean she was passing in her desire to be seen as a woman? It had to. She could drown her sorrows in their bodies, their warmth or their blood—maybe even both. She would always find a way to enjoy herself, the warmth of her body rolling in pleasure or the adrenalin of her skin being coated with blood as she watched the life fade from their eyes, the closest things she had to love.

He wasn’t being very gentle, but he was trying. She didn’t care, in a way she preferred the pain. She could feel herself pressing against the wall in such a teasing way, she did her best to ignore it though. She could appreciate its pleasures, but in the back of her mind she was still screaming that it was wrong—that it wasn’t how she was supposed to be.

At least in the moments like this she didn’t have to listen to it too much.

He was preparing her, moving slowly and stretching her. She liked this part, the way its pain built up to pleasures. As long as they both got what they wanted then all was well, if they both had that warmth then she could be pleased with herself for at least a moment. 

She knew how it would play out: Whatever words he spoke while they were busy with each other would be locked away in her mind—stored away for when she would need to pull herself out of the darkness, she would bask in warmth for a moment or at least as longs as she could, then either he would ask her to leave or she would leave on her own, that’s the way these things played out with her. As long as she got that feeling she desired then why should she stick around?

Oh she’d been young and foolish before, thought that returned attraction was enough to bring out love that perhaps they might take an interest in her heart, but she had long since learned her lesson. If she wanted love then she would have to work at it, find a way for it to work, and she accepted that. These men where not the great love she was looking for, if there was a possibility then she would seek them out more than once; but that was not likely with this one. 

She was almost ready for him now, chest pressed against the wall and a sheen of sweat priming her brow. Her hips pressed out behind her, keeping her lower front away from the wall for the moment, she hoped he wouldn’t take that as some kind of invitation. It was always a way to ruin a mood when she had to remove their hands from that part of her. She didn’t want them there when she was able to think about it though, it wasn’t something she liked to think about at all. 

He began to press inside her. His movements slow although not as gentle as he thought he was being, enough that she had to grit her teeth for a moment. He was kind enough to give her time to adjust, she didn’t want to adjust  _all_ the way though, she wanted at least a little pain. The sound of his breathing and the feeling of his slick skin against her own was what she needed to keep her mind on the moment. 

This feeling was what she needed, the feeling of being wanted by someone. That was the feeling she craved, to be desired and wanted even when she knew that she was wrong. If she could be wanted by someone then surely it wasn’t crazy to think that she could be loved as well? As long as someone wanted her for something, for anything then she could convince herself that she was loved in spite of whatever truth presented itself. 

Once he was fully sheathed inside her he began to search for a rhythm they could both enjoy. He seemed to be decently experienced from the way he moved, she’d made a good choice with him.  She hated it when she found one who was obviously inexperienced, they usually ended badly. The inexperienced ones typically left her unsatisfied and she didn’t like to deal with those things herself, that’s why she couldn’t stand those ones.

Their rhythm was found, a slow pace that steadily sped up. Her flushed skin pressed hotly against his as he whispered seductive profanities in her ear. Some of them were worth keeping: _so good, fucking fantastic, like fire_. These were the words that she would store away for when she felt like tumbling into the darkness, what she would cling to, to remind her that she still had worth. 

He pushed a little too hard and it forced her hips forward to brush her lower front against the wall. It felt so good, but in her mind she felt a wave of shame roll over her for it. Her shame wasn’t from the enjoyment, but from knowing that it was wrong. She hated it when those feelings interrupted these moments, she just wanted to experience something nice—something that felt like love, not shame and sorrow at her inescapable fate.

Of course he didn’t notice, but she did her best to keep her hips pushed back against him rather than the wall.  It proved to be a better decision when the slight change forced him to hit the pleasurable spot inside her. Her nails dug into the wall as a pleasured cry slipped from her lips.

That seemed to encourage him. He began to do his best to continue hitting it, holding to her hips to keep her in place. She rewarded him with the sound of her voice in the night, wanton moans and sharp cries to encourage him to keep going. She could feel the pressure building inside her, a hot bubbling feeling in the pit of her groin that would grow until it released like a crashing wave. 

All her coherent thoughts were slowly slipping away with every thrust. She didn’t need to think, just focus on the feelings. She could feel that part of herself almost twitching, the pleasure inside her threatening to spill over very soon. She had enough thought to give him warning, leaning back to whisper against his lips. 

He took that as an invitation. 

She gasped when he grasped her in his hand, wasting no time before he began to pleasure her as he would a man. She tensed up at first, almost ready to end everything—but she didn’t. 

She was too lost in the feeling, in the pleasure that was ebbing at the corners of her body. He pushed her over the edge with ease. She did her best to focus on the feeling inside her, the feeling of release and the crashing wave of hot pleasure. She could ignore her lower front if she just stayed focused on the hot bubbling feeling inside that seemed to exhaust her. 

She stayed that way, basking in the warm feeling of her release until he reached his own high inside her. His head leaned against her back, their skin sticking together from the sweat that coated their bodies. They both groaned loudly when he pulled himself from inside her, that final little moment before she was left with nothing but that warm feeling inside her. 

She was still a lady though, the least she could do was compliment him on a job well done. Naturally that’s what she did, speaking in a ragged purr as she thanked him for their moment, earning her what could only be described as a ridiculous grin from him; such a typical man. 

He commented on how exhausted she looked, offering to help her to the bed so she could regain her strength before dressing. It seemed he was one of the ones who wanted her gone as soon as possible, that was alright. 

She simply asked him to hand her her clothes that had been strewn about the room and point her towards the bathroom. He obliged her quickly, handing her a haphazard pile of her clothes. She accepted them graciously with a grin and thankful nod of her head before heading in the direction he had pointed. She walked straight and kept her back erect, she would walk with pride despite the weakness she still felt in her knees. 

He didn’t even bother to watch her walk, already working on redressing himself; she didn’t care though, he had served his purpose. She held on to the warm feeling that radiated across her skin as she stepped inside the bathroom and used the last of her energy to port herself back to her own flat, right beside her bed. 

A pleased grin spread across her face as she collapsed into her own bed, sinking into the plush comforter and various pillows until they encased her naked flesh. She gave a contented sigh as she curled up in her bed, basking in the warmth in her body that she was certain could touch her heart. 

This feeling was all she really needed, this warmth inside her that she was sure almost felt like love.


End file.
